I thought that I was an adult. After all, I'm twenty-seven years old. I never really felt like I was grown-up, though. Lately, it seems to me that maybe I will never be grown-up. What does being grown-up mean anyways?
I thought it meant a few things...being responsible for my actions, taking charge of my life, doing the things that needed to be done. Learning all the lessons you needed to and then, then you were grown-up.
I have learned many a lesson recently. I've learned that I am selfish. I've learned that love is a give-and-take kind of thing. I had the impression in my mind that if someone does something for me, I am not obligated to return the favor. I don't like being obligated. However, it has occurred to me that maybe 'obligation' is not the correct word. Maybe the word is...courtesy? I've learned that other people's feelings do matter to me. (Well, some people's feelings. I'll work on that.) I've learned that there is sometimes more than one "right thing" to do. Which one do I choose? The one that's right in the eyes of the law? The one that's right morally? The one that's right in my heart? So much pressure.
I've learned that the choices I make are sometimes best left alone, rather than fucking with them and choosing something else. Previously, I held my motto out to be happy with life, and if you wanted something different, change it! Choose something else! You only live once, so why be unhappy!
I have found that maybe, just maybe, I've made my bed and I might as well lay in it. That maybe what's better in the long run does not necessarily make me happy now. If I want instant gratification, I'll go shopping. If I want to have a healthy happy future...well, that's different. I made a few choices and I will stick with them. If I cry at night over them, that's okay. Because my future will be better. Time will heal my heart.
I have learned that it's best to go with my first instinct. So that's my story...and I'm sticking to it.